


Joe is the Big Spoon (and Here's Why)

by Ghrelt



Series: We Taught Ourselves to Love [3]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance, Spooning, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:55:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25291279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghrelt/pseuds/Ghrelt
Summary: Joe's the big spoon, but maybe not for the reasons you might think.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: We Taught Ourselves to Love [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830847
Comments: 79
Kudos: 1472





	Joe is the Big Spoon (and Here's Why)

**Author's Note:**

> For my birthday, I wanted to write. This is what came out. I can't seem to stop writing about these two and no I don't want to either. Comments are my lifeblood. Please feed me.

Joe is always the big spoon. 

Always.

But it wasn’t always so.

They used to swap the position based on random… whatever. Sometimes a man needs his arms around his lover. Sometimes he needs to be held.

At no point in time did they ever both sleep with their arms around each other. You put your back to safety and you sleep facing the danger, even if it means nobody gets to hold anybody and your backs press together in the night.

That has its own appeal too, and is often accompanied by a tangle of legs and fingers entwined.

They don’t sleep apart unless they’re chained apart.

Whoever makes them sleep apart pays the price for the affront. They don’t ever get to sleep again. Or conversely, they never get to wake up. Semantics. If they live to regret their decision, it’s not for very long.

But now? Now Joe’s always the big spoon.

It started benignly enough. They fell asleep facing the door, as they always do. Clothed, as they always do. Weapons in reach…

Nicky with his arm wrapped around Joe and his face tucked into Joe’s neck. Warm and safe and…

And then the door shattered in a rain of jagged wooden splinters, more than a handful of which embedded themselves in the sleeping lovers.

Their ears rang, and Joe blinked around the room, not sure where or even _who_ he was.

Nicky’s reaction time was faster.

Not fast enough, but faster.

Instantly awake and aware, knowing had time for one of two things: grab a weapon and move to defend them, or roll on top of Joe and take the first salvo of bullets.

He did not have time for both.

It wasn’t even a question. While Joe was still trying to shake off the disorientation of their inconsiderate wake-up call, Nicky pushed him down onto the bed and covered him with his body.

It was a very familiar position, whoever was on top. Not the most pleasant of situations though.

Nicky’s body bucked as bullet after bullet after bullet struck, everywhere.

Joe felt the weight of him go from warm and vital, to a heavy sack of meat. He felt that far more than the searing pain of the bullet that grazed his arm and the other that embedded in his calf.

Heart thumping in his chest at the sheer emptiness of Nicky’s chest not thumping back. Pressed against his in this horrific farce of a thousand things they could be doing with his lover pressing him to the bed.

But not this.

Never this.

It was enough to bring him startlingly, painfully awake. The gun was in his hand and he didn’t even remember looking. 

The helmet and body armor didn’t protect the man with the gun. Not one bit when he had three holes through his head. Cheekbone, nose, eye. And dropped like the useless waste of life he was. The other three fared no better, though Joe wasted fewer bullets on them. The chamber clicked empty just after the fourth fell and Joe prayed there wouldn’t be a fifth.

This time, his prayers were answered.

He tossed the gun onto the ground with a clatter and reached up to frame his Nicky’s face. “Love? Nicolo?” he said, voice a high whine. “You did it. You saved me. You can wake up now.”

Like every time, he held his breath. Wondering if this would finally be the moment he didn’t wake. That their centuries together would come to a sudden end. He wanted more. He didn’t want nine centuries. He wanted a thousand. A million. He wanted to be holding his hand when the sun went supernova and anything before that was unconscionable.

So he held him. And he hoped. And he prayed.

And a moment that lasted a hundred million years later, Nicolo gasped. Shuddered. Coughed, and spat three bullets out. Rose up on one arm as his wounds closed and bullets began to fall, pinging on the floorboards next to the bed. “You okay?” he asked, searching Joe for wounds.

Joe sputtered. “Am? Am _I_ okay? Am I okay?” After that all Nicky heard for a while was barely intelligible Arabic. Until he silenced him with his lips.

“I am alright,” he said a long, long time later.

After that, Joe was the big spoon. Always.

He took too long to come back to himself on waking.

Nicky did not.

And never again did either have to choose between being a weapon or a meat shield.

Nicky got to sleep with warm arms around him and a warm presence at his back.

Joe never had to wake to the feeling of Nicky dying on top of him.

Everybody wins.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like The Old Guard, come join us in the [discord!](https://discord.gg/kDJpjxx)


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